Something About Stars
by nevershoutyettis
Summary: Cecil very decidedly loves Carlos, but Carlos is still adjusting to just how relationships work - scientifically speaking, of course. And there's no better test for a hypothesis than very thorough follow-up experimentation! [Cecil/Carlos fluffy PWP oneshot in which Carlos is a bit of a sub and also a total nerd]


_notes: this is and also isn't a sequel to Honesty Day - you don't have to have read that to understand this, but I did write them as if they chronologically took place in order. also this is not anatomically explicit, but I went with the rating because better safe than sorry and whatnot!_

 _Commonplace Books owns Night Vale_

* * *

They pretend they aren't nervous. They've done this before, after all.

It's true that it had taken every ounce of the scientist's courage to convince himself to drive back to Cecil's apartment that first night, and it had still gone all wrong. Not that Cecil seemed to mind. The following morning, Carlos had awoken to Cecil - hair damp and breath fresh - climbing back into bed with a cup of warm coffee. The coffee was good and Carlos was grateful for the gesture, but some small part of him had hoped for a different morning altogether - for drowsier conversation and fewer clothes and a second chance at a first impression. Instead they sipped at coffee and discussed weekend plans and hesitantly left their separate ways with a kiss goodbye before bravely facing a new day of responsibilities.

But the fact remains that they've been here before, at the threshold of Cecil's apartment building shyly stalling for time until one of them will politely suggest a cup of coffee or a sip of something stronger or any variety of socially-appropriate empty gestures that means something else entirely.

 _And why does there have to be this weird unwritten list of rules? And who wrote it in the first place? And what happens if you just say what you mean to someone without dancing around the topic with awkwardly-placed offers of beverages?_

Carlos realizes this line of questioning isn't the most romantic train of thought to be having at this point in the evening, as they're laying on Cecil's bed, half-undressed and locked in a kiss. Still, social science is still science, and Carlos has always borne the bad habit of retreating into science when he's nervous. It's safer than thinking about the way Cecil's teeth snag against his lower lip and accelerate the anxious churn in his stomach.

"Can we stop for a sec?" he manages as they part for a breath. Cecil obliges immediately, pulling back until he's perched on his knees, giving Carlos space. The scientist keeps his hands resting on the soft skin covering Cecil's angular hipbones. The point of contact helps to steady him a bit, boosting his courage slightly. Cecil reaches down his hands and places them atop the scientist's reassuringly.

"We don't have to go any further," Cecil offers gently. Carlos shakes his head almost immediately, partly in response and partly in an attempt to physically shake the anxious mess out of his mind. Cecil's hands slip down to the scientist's wrists, his fingertips slowly tracing in calming arcs down Carlos' forearms. "Do you want to talk?"

"You're the one who's good with talking," Carlos huffs with a chuckle. Cecil hums doubtfully. The gentle touches have worked their way back up to the scientist's shoulders as Cecil lowers himself down to rest against Carlos' chest.

"I seem to recall your very first day here you were giving enthusiastic press conferences and enchanting practically the entire town." Cecil grins and folds his hands beneath his chin, tilting his head to one side to lean into the scientist's hand brushing through the soft waves of his hair.

"I don't know about enchanting the entire town. I'm pretty sure it was just you, Cecil," Carlos adds.

"Well it's just me now." A soft press of lips to the scientist's palm. "You can talk to just me."

Carlos sighs lightly. "I'm thinking about the scientific method." Cecil raises a curious eyebrow. "Systematic observation and experimentation," he explains. "Any good experiment requires the use of a control against which you measure the results of further testing." Cecil's head bobs in understanding. "If you consider our last date the control and consider this one the follow-up experiment..." Carlos bites his lip, allowing the metaphor to conclude itself. "Would you believe I'm more nervous this time around than last?"

Cecil buries a grin against the downy curls that cover Carlos' chest. "Yes," he finally replies, readjusting his chin back against his hands. He looks like he's about to laugh, not out of amusement, but perhaps...relief? "Yes, I would believe that very much. Can I tell you a secret?" Carlos nods enthusiastically. "I still get nervous around you too sometimes. But I'm not nervous right now, do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because, Carlos," Cecil purrs, and Carlos feels his pulse quicken at the way that voice transforms his name. "Because I want every version of you there is - at your best and at your worst and at every blissfully human point in between the two. Because I want nothing more than to be here with you right now." He cups the scientist's chin tenderly. "Because _you_ wanting _me_ here right now fills me with a joy that all the practiced diction in every ancient tongue can never fully define. My darling Carlos, you've already exceeded my every expectation, and I love-" for a moment the words falter and Cecil's amber eyes flick downward, but he refocuses on Carlos after a breath. "I'm not nervous, because I love you, with no expectation or uncertainty." He smiles softly, and Carlos loses any words he had planned to say.

The admission doesn't surprise him - after all, Cecil has been speaking of love since the very first day they met. Back then Carlos didn't trust the words to be true, and in retrospect he still doubts their initial accuracy in context. But now over a year later, their authenticity is beyond any doubt. What ties the scientist's tongue is his inability to reciprocate the sentiment. All the scientific jargon in the world can't properly express the _everything_ that he feels inside. He could attempt to explain the specific balance of chemicals that race through his nervous system at even the mere thought of Cecil. He could theorize in models and graphs why love exists and postulate the levels of psychology and biology that couple to form romantic and emotional compatibility. All the numbers and science feels so cold, though, in comparison to the dazzling warmth that spreads through his every nerve at Cecil's touch.

Love. Love. _Love,_ he thinks as he pulls Cecil back into a kiss. It's a simple enough concept, but almost dangerously so. The theory still requires precise analysis, thorough study before he can make a definitive conclusion. Scientists are thorough, and first and foremost Carlos is a..is...

 _Love,_ Carlos thinks - or perhaps Cecil whispers - or possibly both. It's hard to pay attention to minor details when Cecil's hands are everywhere, mapping out the trajectory of his wandering lips. Carlos stops paying attention to his internal monologue entirely by the time Cecil's prettily positioned himself beneath the scientist. Initially setting a pace is easy enough, but Carlos finds it hard to keep it steady when Cecil's voice fractures into scattered syllables with every movement. The sounds alone are enough to tempt him towards the edge, but he wants this to last. He wants to draw out every last one of those dulcet syllables until only his name is left on those perfect lips. There's a pause as Carlos re-collects, pulls himself back from the brink.

"Carlos," Cecil whimpers, his body wriggling in an attempt to recapture the lost sensation. "Don't tease me."

Carlos grins as he hitches Cecil's thigh more firmly around his waist. "I would _never_ ," he whispers, leaning in for a deep kiss as he continues their rhythm at this new angle. The wanton sound it elicits from Cecil reverberates through every molecule of the scientist's body.

It's hard to estimate when Carlos wakes. The sky is pale pistachio - a remnant of the sunset or a precursor to the dawn, he can't tell. The shade itself isn't particularly appetizing, but it does give an otherworldly glow to Cecil's exposed sienna skin. The scientist props himself up on an elbow and takes in the peaceful view for the few brief moments it lasts. Soon enough, Cecil begins tossing restlessly, rearranging the blankets around himself. A hand splays out, blindly reaching and not finding.

"Carlos?" Cecil mumbles. Carlos hums a quiet response. Cecil mumbles another question that ends with a slurred "alright?"

"Yeah," Carlos assures him. "I was just up thinking. That's what scientists do." Cecil shifts around so they're lying parallel.

"Thinking about science?" he yawns, dark eyelashes fluttering as he blinks a sleepy gaze into focus.

"Technically. I was considering the intersection of light and color, and how a theory exists that both are strongly subjective experiences."

"And where do you stand on the matter?" Cecil asks with a contented groan as he first stretches and then flops back into an overly-stuffed pillow.

"I'm not sure just yet. But I can certainly say that I, subjectively, greatly enjoy my present experience of both."

"Based on?" Cecil asks with the slightest smirk playing across his lips.

"How beautiful you look in the moonlight." A flush of copper is added to the subjective palette as it tints Cecil's face from his nose to the tips of his ears.

"You're not so bad yourself," he replies with a coy smile, scooting slightly closer until their noses are nearly touching. Cecil presses an impulsive, sweet kiss to Carlos' lips. Carlos pulls him in for another - lazier this time - then another and another. Gradually he moves a little lower, a trail of soft kisses down Cecil's neck, leading to a pale plum blossom along his collarbone - the visible reminder of their earlier pleasure. Cecil says something, so quiet that Carlos misses the request the first time.

"What?" he asks, redirecting his attention back towards Cecil's face. His eyes are closed, lips parted slightly, as he reaches for the scientist's hand at the nape of his neck and twines their fingers together.

"Please," he breathes against Carlos' lips. Cecil presses his hips forward in a needy motion, and Carlos realizes he's already half-hard. "Please," Cecil asks again, so softly. Carlos gladly obliges, but takes his time with his explorations: mapping the smooth angled planes of Cecil's chest, traversing the soft curves of his stomach, discovering the dip in his hipbone that draws an instinctive shiver from Cecil as Carlos brushes his tongue across it. Cecil is so desperate already, but Carlos pauses first to press one last kiss to the tender skin of his thigh, sucking just enough to plant another mulberry bloom - this one right on the fringe of a dense patch of pale freckles.

Cecil is exquisite like this, taken apart and faintly trembling. Carlos is about to finally indulge him, but Cecil interrupts with another quiet request.

"I need you closer." Cecil looses his fingers to caress the scientist's cheek. "Come here." Carlos does as he's asked, bringing his attention fully back to Cecil, trying to read his expression.

"What do you want?" he asks gently.

"Make love to me?"

"Of course," Carlos promises, tucking back a wayward strand of ebony behind Cecil's ear.

"Let me be on top this time?" Cecil asks, reaching to the dresser for the supplies.

"Of course," Carlos repeats. Cecil arranges a pillow behind the scientist's back and climbs into his lap. It's a much different experience than what they've done before. Carlos definitely enjoys it more when Cecil is murmuring quiet instructions to him like this, but that isn't the only notable change. Their pace is slow and gentle and rhythmic; this time it isn't nearly as much about the end as it is about the journey there. Carlos tangles his fingers in the curtain of dark hair cascading down Cecil's back and rests his lips against his throat to feel the vibrations as Cecil talks them through it.

It's a string of the sweetest nonsense in his ear: words about love and beauty and perfection and a hundred other beautiful nothings and languid praises. Carlos could calculate the timbre of that voice, determine the frequency and pinpoint the precise acoustics of it all, but instead he allows the sentiments to seep through him and into his bones.

Carlos doesn't know who finishes first this time, can't even recall when gentle rhythm gave way to a shaky conclusion followed by stillness. He only remembers a dreamy quiet with Cecil nestled across his chest, the scientist's arm around his shoulders. Cecil's whispers still echo through his semi-conscious mind: something about stars and void that Carlos doesn't understand logically, but on some deeper level thinks makes perfect sense. Gradually the words are replaced by a single repeated phrase of his own.

 _My god do I love you._

His brain tirelessly repeats it on a loop until he feels his heart could burst if he doesn't allow the words to escape. Carlos breathes them once, twice, three times into Cecil's hair and allows them to linger there - a talisman to ward the thieving sunrise off for just a little longer.

* * *

 _notes: Baby's First Unprompted Sexy Fic and I went for a double whammy right out of the gate! This was a mixture of self-indulgence to preserve my sanity through finals, and also a direct result of inspiration from a sappy playlist of love songs._  
 _thank you to my friend Tier for nudging me awkwardly until I finally sat down and wrote this at 2:30 AM, and thank you for reading - let me know what you thought of it!_


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